


Part 1

by cherrycokeisnice



Series: Party Poison and his many lives [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Kobra Kid - Freeform, The Girl - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21562129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrycokeisnice/pseuds/cherrycokeisnice
Summary: Party Poison keeps dying, and keeps waking up back in the Diner anyway. What the fuck is going on?
Series: Party Poison and his many lives [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553908
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Part 1

Party Poison woke up, the harsh rays of the sun coming in through the windows of the diner acting as his alarm clock. He woke up this way almost every day, and although he could do without the blinding effects of the sun, and waking up with a headache because of it, he rather liked this little routine. In contrast to popular belief, Party Poison wasn't a wild, crazy person. Was he impulsive sometimes? Absolutely. Did his decisions often lack logic, despite him overthinking them for days in advance? You bet your ass they did. But that was just the dyspraxia. What a pain in the ass that was. Party slept in his own room, at the very end of the diner. The guys slept together out front, in what had been the dining area of the diner, huddled together under two blankets. How they did that, Poison did not know. All that heat, all that sweat. The desert was hot enough as it was.  
Party walked down the hallway, and stopped to check on Gracie, as he did every morning. She always slept with trinkets in her bed, though what trinket it was differed week by week. Right now, it was an old stuffed animal, a purple walrus Kobra had found in the old toy store in Zone 2. The Girl had been delighted with it, but Kobra was not. "Fucking creepy place. I am never going back there again." Poison had laughed at that, and Kobra had looked him dead in the eyes, completely serious. "That place is fucking haunted Party. Souls of dead toys, just floating around, whispering. Barbie dolls, wrestling figures, soccer balls. You think those things don't have souls? I'm telling you they do, and if you stay in there too long, they'll get you. Thank fuck that walrus was at the front of the store. Never again."  
Poison waked past the Girl's room, into the main section of the Diner. There they were, Jet Star, Kobra Kid and Fun Ghoul. The people he would die for. Had died for, actually. Not that they would know. Poison creeped past them, careful not to step on them. The last time he had stepped on Fun Ghoul in his sleep, Ghoul had grabbed his ankle, causing Poison to fall flat on his face, busting his lip. It never fully healed, and so when Poison smiled-which was more than he would like-it would split open again, and the blood would start flowing. That busted lip had ruined his favourite shirt for fucks sake, the Danger Mouse one.  
Poison opened the doors of the Diner and slipped through quickly, hoping the sun wouldn't wake up the rest of his crew, as it had him. He went around the back of the Diner, and climbed up the ladder as usual, and soon, Poison was where he was every morning at around 5:30 in the morning-on the roof of the Diner, staring out at the Zones, contemplating life. And why he had a seemingly endless supply of it. Because Poison had died-of that he was sure. Five times so far, to be exact. Each time he had died, and then two days later, he woke up in the Diner, not knowing how he got there. And after the first two times, it had started to freak him out.  
Kobra was into sci-fi and fantasy books, and in one of the books he had lent Poison, the hero kept dying, and then coming back to life, purely because he hadn't served his purpose. So after Poison had questioned whether anything around him was real for a few weeks(and he still did this, every once in a while,) he had accepted that he had a fate. His view on fate had been mixed at best before he died for the first time. Poison knew he wasn't meant to live in Battery City, knew he wasn't meant to live life without emotions, without feelings. In that sense, he knew his fate. What he would do with his life, however, was a different matter. He was the leader of the Zones, sure. He was the face of resistance, of emotion against the unfeeling coldness of Better Living Industries. Was that what he would be for his whole life? Who knew? Party certainly didn't. Each morning he tried to figure out what his fate, his purpose was, and how he could work towards it. Party, despite the dyspraxia making him lazy as fuck, was focused on this goal. What the problem was, however, despite the procrastination caused by the dyspraxia, was the fact that so far, there seemed to be nothing he could do to work towards his fate. If he didn't know it, how could he work towards it, unless unconsciously, unintentionally. And Party didn't want that. He controlled so little in his life. If his fate was decided, how he went towards it at least should be under his control.  
Party sat on top of the Diner, pleading with the Witch, asking her why he was still here. And when he got no answer, he began to do what he always did, until one of the others woke up. He replayed his deaths in his head, scene by scene, detail by detail. There had to be something there that was the key. There had to be


End file.
